Psychological
Day 5: Bluemoon Lit Caper
I knew this would happen. Normally, the poison named My Inclusion takes longer to show warning signs. If I can remain on par the course through their retelling of my symptoms from a night of "sleep," the next level of obstacles won’t hit so hard so fast. The roar is brewing beneath the volcano’s lid; the medication will have faded by now, whatever has been waiting to flood my vision is on its way. Testing each other...sure, okay. Maybe I should've force-filled stolen medical records they weirdly had with a prophecy with killer stats, but as doctors suggested, pretending it’s not there is worse as a stressor than communing in the meantime. Guess there's no need to relish. Fighting to ignore childhood bias, home training might be easier with these lunatics at the helm. Don’t get me wrong. No semi-competent crew could hold down one bitchen fort like this. These aren’t dizzy dames and loose cannons playing religion. They’re tough customers. (Explanation for the period in the addition.) Yet, what they expect to happen—what Cornman Ron is spooked about seeing for whatever reason, is loony with a capital LUNE.
By Willem Indigo2 months ago in Fiction
The Man Who Repaired Sunsets. AI-Generated.
Every evening at precisely 6:21 p.m., the sky above Old Harbour performed the same tired ritual. The sun dipped low, the clouds gathered in a half-hearted formation, and the horizon glowed in a colour that looked incomplete—like an artist who left the canvas unfinished and simply walked away.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
Remediation Required. Honorable Mention in The Forgotten Room Challenge.
My hangover throbs behind my eyes, and my breath tastes sour. I take a swig of water and collapse on the couch, craving rest and relief. As soon as my eyes close, time and space melt away, and I am falling.
By Aubrey Rebecca2 months ago in Fiction
A Golinda and Gallopatrot Adventure to The Q Garden
Kat had a new addiction. She read the news. She accepted that partial truth and mistruths have been part of reality for eons. Dark elements that permeate the universe also permeate society, the body, cells and thoughts. Resentment for not being taught more of how to live in this world, where darkness is more abundant than light, does little to help when desperation sets in. Kat was motivated to tap into wisdom from the past.
By Katherine D. Graham2 months ago in Fiction
A Christmas Glitch. Top Story - December 2025.
The twins were dead. Our hero knew it, and you may imagine that a little something in him unclenched when he saw the news on his screen. Now, at last, he was truly free of them, and the knowledge was like a sigh. Were he a balloon animal, one segment of his torso (or his neck, or one intestinal-esque limb) would have gently unscrewed itself. His heart and lungs lost a little creak that he didn't even know he'd been carrying.
By L.C. Schäfer2 months ago in Fiction
The Cave. Content Warning.
The smell of the ocean air met violently with the putrid metallic odor of blood and viscera, the waves crashing around him as he stared blankly at the horizon while the Spanish galleon he arrived on grew increasingly smaller. He launched his pockmarked breastplate to the ground in disgust as his skin morphed from a sunburned olive to a pale alabaster.
By Marco Moteku2 months ago in Fiction
The Algorithm That Predicted My Death
he Algorithm That Predicted My Death When data knows your future… before you dare to imagine it. When the government released Lifeline, an AI-powered health prediction system, everyone called it the greatest innovation of the century. Hospitals celebrated fewer sudden deaths, insurance companies celebrated lower risks, and people celebrated the illusion of control over their fate.
By Abdul Hadi2 months ago in Fiction
The Wabi-Sabi of Time. AI-Generated.
In the near future, memory is no longer something fragile, fading, or human. It is editable. The world calls it The Polisher—a sleek, palm-sized device that can smooth out the rough edges of any memory. A heartbreak becomes a polite farewell. A failure becomes a valuable lesson. A lonely night becomes a quiet moment of “self-reflection.” In this era, no one carries emotional scars. No one remembers the rawness of living. Everything is curated. Everything is clean.
By shakir hamid2 months ago in Fiction
